


Guardian of Kings

by SunnyRose



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Cultural Differences, Dwarven Politics, Everybody Lives, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyRose/pseuds/SunnyRose
Summary: The Company has been having a good laugh as the story of their quest spreads through the mountain and more and more retellings makes Thorin out to be Bilbo’s damsel in distress. It stops becoming funny when Thorin’s honor is challenged, and it’s up to Bilbo to defend it. Thorin may be ready to smuggle his hobbit out of the mountain, but Bilbo will do it. For Thorin, he would do anything.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 49
Kudos: 191





	1. Guardian of Miscommunication

**Author's Note:**

> This is coming in on my last day of birthday plot bunnies I have been doing on my tumblr which can be found [here](https://sunnyrosewritesstuff.tumblr.com/post/623467763988627456/7-days-of-plot-bunnies) if you're interested. I've really appreciated the support so far, and thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read my works!
> 
> -Sunny

The raucous laughter that bellowed into the hallway could have led Bilbo to the room blindfolded. He stepped into the private dining room, and stopped in the entrance way, fixing the image of his dwarves in his brain. A small, fond smile found its way to his lips as he thought back to his first dinner with these dwarves almost five years ago in his Bag End. 

In a lot of ways, nothing had really changed. Food was being thrown about, ale spilling down beards, smacking lips, truly just atrocious table manners. However, if you knew where to look, there were little things that spoke of the mountain’s prosperity. Looser belt buckles, full cheeks, well-cared for beards and hair, and the sparkle of wealth all the “heroes of Erebor” carried.

After what came to be known as the Battle of the Five Armies and Thorin, Fili, and Kili’s truly miraculous recoveries, each member of the company was honored in title and gold. Most declined a council position, but were still highly respected by the people of Erebor. Bilbo, of course, was included on that ridiculous pedestal, but he had been unable to decline his council position due to both Thorin and Balin’s insistence.

Even his return to the Shire hadn’t really stopped them. For months, he had been plagued with letters and missives asking when he would return and if he could weigh in on certain policies. It took him a year and a half to realize, there was no place he would rather be than Erebor.

Bilbo wasn’t sure exactly what was being discussed. His Khuzdul was very minimal even though he did get permission to learn. However, he could tell from the sulky expression on Thorin’s face that it was something at the king’s expense. His heart swelled as he allowed himself a few moments of unabashed staring.

Thorin’s beard was getting longer with a few braids here and there now that he stopped shearing it short. The silver seemed heavier in it, but Bilbo constantly had to tell him that it made him look distinguished and not like ‘an addled old codger’ _._ More important to Bilbo, his sapphire blue eyes finally shone freely. There was no shadow of hurt. He smiled and laughed more, and Bilbo knew even if he ever did leave again he would do so head held high that he was able to ease the burden from this soul.

Almost as if he was aware of his gaze, Thorin’s eyes slid over to Bilbo. His smile grew almost immediately as his heart stuttered away inside his chest. Similarly, Thorin’s cheeks pinked and he seemed to sit up straighter as he smiled and nodded at him in return.

“Master Burglar.” He greeted affectionately.

“Your Majesty.” Bilbo answered with their usual bout of unnecessary formality.

Bilbo found his way to his usual seat just to the right of the king. Shouts and various greetings were sent Bilbo’s way as the rest of the company became aware of his presence as well.

“Sorry I’m late. Dear Gwen says ‘one more thing’, but really she means twenty. What did I miss?” He addressed the table.

“Lad, you really don’t have to go down there and settle every dispute that comes through Bag’s Corner.” Balin patted his shoulder.

“I know I _don’t have to._ ” Bilbo bristled. “That is my duty and my joy as a landlord.”

“Don’t let him puff you up. He’s just upset you missed diplomatic training with us today.” Fili whispered conspirtually from across the table.

“And today’s lesson was so fascinating.” Kili added before pretending to sleep.

A roll flew to hit Kili in the face. Bilbo looked over at Thorin as the younger dwarf started to splutter, but his eyes were down on his plate with his fork in hand. Only the barest upturn of his lips gave him away.

“Well, unlike some people, I can probably get away with it and be just fine.” Bilbo stared at the brothers with a pointed look.

They instantly started protesting, and Bilbo turned his gaze back to Thorin to shoot him a wink. Bilbo was rewarded with a flash of teeth as his grin spread too wide to be hidden away. 

“I do apologize, Balin.” Bilbo turned back to the white bearded dwarf. “I really did intend to make it down there today.”

Balin patted his shoulder again. “We’ll just try again later this week. Not a problem at all, _Ushmar uzbâd._ ”

“Guardian of kings? What’s that supposed to mean?” Bilbo huffed.

The table erupted in laughter again as Thorin slumped against the back of his chair. His good humor from a moment ago vanishing instantly. 

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” He complained.

“Let the _ushmar uzbâd_ have his moment.” Dwalin teased the pouting king.

“Aye, he deserves to hear the tale the way it _really_ happened.” Nori smirked.

Bilbo found himself looking back and forth between all of their mischievous faces before Bofur just couldn’t take it any longer.

“You see, it’s like this, Bilbo. All good stories stretch the truth in them as I’m sure you know.”

Bilbo nodded, regretting not for the first time, telling the story of Bullroarer to them. He was too curious about what had riled his dwarves up so much to make a sour face though.

“Well, of course as our quest has spread around the mountain, more and more interpretations have come out that are _exaggerated._ And the latest…”

Bofur had to stop himself when a chuckle bubbled up in his words.

“Uncle is a damsel who had to be rescued by his hobbit.” Kili blurted out causing the table to roar once more.

“Thorin is a...I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Bilbo murmured his cheeks having colored at _his hobbit._

“Well, it’s just that you saved us from so much.” Fili tried to spell out.

“Azog, spiders, elves, dragon sickness.” Dwalin listed out.

“That our people see you as some sort of storybook hero, which leaves Uncle as…”

“The princess in the tower?” Kili unhelpfully supplied.

Bilbo was afraid most of them were going to pass out from the way mirth rolled through their bodies. He snuck a glance at Thorin whose face was in his hands, the mere picture of mortification. A few soft chuckles escaped Bilbo at this as he patted his arm, and Thorin was quick to shoot him a glare for the effort.

“Not you too.”

“It is just a little funny, Thorin.” Bilbo tried to ease.

“It is _not_ funny.” Thorin emphasized with a hiss. 

“Come on.” Bilbo insisted. “There is a fair amount of truth to it. Besides, where would you be without me?”

“Uh, Bilbo…” Balin tried to warn.

However, it came too late. Bilbo clearly had underestimated the level of ire Thorin had been placed in by this whole affair prior to him getting there, and that his teasing, if not flirtatious, comment was the pick to collapse the mine. 

“Not only is largely inaccurate, but insulting to assume I need to be rescued by anyone.” Thorin growled. “And _you_ wouldn’t have made it over the mountains if not for me. So who truly is the helpless damsel here?”

Bilbo’s jaw dropped as he puffed up affronted. “You would have been eaten by trolls if it wasn’t for me.”

“I wouldn’t have even been captured by trolls if you hadn’t decided to try and _burgle_ our ponies out!” He declared standing up.

“I’m sure you're right. Having had the bright idea to camp fifty paces from said trolls, I’m sure things would have been different.”

“GOBLINS!” Thorin roared, waving his hands.

“I didn’t face any goblins!” Bilbo was quick to counter. “I had fallen down the side of the mountain which NONE of you were quick to come looking for me, I might add.”

At this point, the table had gone silent leaving the only sound being Thorin and Bilbo’s harsh breathing as they glared at each other, neither willing to be the first to back down in their rather pointed argument. To think, Bilbo had thought it was going to be such a pleasant evening. Finally, Thorin gave him a bitter smirk.

“Hold true to your version of history, no matter how skewed it may be. As for me, I’d rather depart now before the ballads paint me from warrior to maiden.”

With that, Thorin gave the company a single nod before leaving the dining room making sure to slam the door on his way out. Bilbo felt rather hollow as he slowly returned to his seat staring after where Thorin left him.

“What just happened?” He complained, turning his glare onto the roasted chicken he regretted not filling his cheeks with.

“Don’t worry about him, lad.” Balin attempted to cheer him up. “I imagine tonight has been more than just a bruise to our dear king’s ego. He’ll get over it soon enough.”

***

He didn’t. Bilbo went from seeing the king at least once a day to hardly seeing him at all the following week. Even Dis made a comment on the sparsity of their king which her sons were quick to fill her in on. She had much to say at that point on Thorin’s particular flavor of idiocy, and how he should feel honored that Bilbo was so revered. Bilbo didn’t know if he would go that far.

If anything, he usually tells the story of their quest from the perspective of humble, lucky hobbit in way over his head. Certainly a more accurate portrayal than the story from the other night. It was just...after everything that happened, he didn’t want to go back to being useless which is why Thorin’s barb hurt so bad. Still, Bilbo found the whole incident to be among the _dumbest_ reasons to ignore someone.

At one point he thought to catch him just outside the audience chambers before court. Bilbo marched down the hall, Thorin caught his eye, and immediately moved into the side entrance. It was very clear at that point that Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, wanted nothing to do with him. Which was painfully aggravating and maybe just a little heart wrenching. 

Well, if that was the case, Bilbo would just have to attend court and petition to the king in front of everyone. If he can handle Lobelia outside his smial with a pocketful of his silver spoons, then he can surely talk to Thorin without it erupting into much of a scandal. Besides, Balin has been encouraging him to get more involved in this aspect of politics. Maybe not from the side of petitioner, but he should definitely know all the nuances of the job. With that settled, he spun around and marched himself to the public entrance of the chamber. The dwarves that were headed that way as well were quick to give a polite nod and offer him a place ahead of them.

It was moments like these that he was thankful of his status as lone hobbit of Erebor as he made it to the front of the crowd with hardly any elbows thrown. A dwarf with five different pleats running down his back was already petitioning before the king and based on his stance and Thorin’s rigid grip on his throne, Bilbo didn’t think this was going to be the usual request.

“Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, known Oakenshield.” The dwarf spat with his thick accent. 

Months of Balin’s etiquette classes burned through the forefront of Bilbo’s mind, and he bristled knowing this dwarf was challenging Thorin by not acknowledging him as king. Not outright offering him insult, but clearly making a point. Bilbo felt his jaw tighten, and he could tell from the muttered curses and tightened fists around him that most of Thorin’s subjects were displeased as well.

“Heor, son of Freon. This is your fifth time to appear before me this month. I grow weary of your face. Speak plainly so that I may deny your request swiftly.” Thorin assessed cooly.

The dwarf spat on the floor before him. The guards all went for their weapons, but Thorin held up a hand. Bilbo could see Dwalin was especially displeased with this order.

“Your refusal to open the mines will starve all of us out!” The dwarf, Heor, bellowed.

“My refusal to open the mines has to do with a sea of riches in our vault, a prosperous economy, and overly friendly neighbors. We don’t need to bleed the mountain to earn our way anymore.”

“And what am I supposed to do with that? I’m a miner!”

“And after that you were a woodsman just as I was a blacksmith. I did not bring about our return to Erebor just to see us fall back into the old ways.”

“Fall back to the OLD WAYS?! YOU WILL HAVE US FALL TO RUIN ONCE MORE! MENU SHIRUMUND (YOU ARE BEARDLESS)!”

There were quite a few outspoken words at this as even Thorin rose to his feet. However, none were faster than the hobbit whose outrage on behalf of his friend warred against the impropriety of his actions.

“Now see here!” Bilbo demanded. “This is not a place for you to whine like an ill behaved faunt. This is a place for legitimate problems to be heard and dealt with. Furthermore, your king has more honor than your feeble brain can even begin to comprehend and deserves your respect.”

Bilbo faintly heard his name called, but all he was aware of was the eerie quiet settling over the crowd he left behind and the purple faced dwarf advancing towards him. He should have probably been fearing bodily harm at that point, but Bilbo raised himself up to his perfectly respectable three and a half feet and stood his ground against the other.

“The Halfling. I might have guessed.” Heor growled. “Am I to take it that you speak for the king’s character?”

It seemed like forever ago, and yet the memory was summoned so swiftly when Bilbo stood before the entire town of Esgaroth to vouch for Thorin’s honor then. Just as before his answer did not waver.

“Yes.”

“NOOO!” Thorin roared.

Bilbo shot him a perplexed look wondering why in the world Thorin looked ready to commit murder as the crowd erupted around him. Well, this definitely wasn’t happening the same way it did the first time. What exactly did he do wrong?

“A fortnight. Then the Akrâg Azgha (Honor Battle) begins.” Heor grinned gleefully.

He turned and skulked off through the crowd that was still much too shocked by what was happening to do more than let him go. Bilbo stared after him with his eyebrows raised. Wait. What about a battle?


	2. Guardian in Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo learns what it is that he agreed to, and Dwalin's training montage ensues.

Bilbo really couldn’t do much to fight against Dwalin’s strong grip as he was dragged out of the court and into a backroom.

“I can walk on my own just fine, thank you Dwalin.” He huffed, moving to straighten out his waistcoat once he was released.

“You’re an idiot.” Was the taller dwarf’s grunt.

Bilbo’s nose gave an unpleasant twitch as his brows furrowed together. He was about to address his rude commentary when Thorin’s bellow immediately silenced him.

“WHERE IS HE?!”

Bilbo turned towards the door right as Thorin came stomping in, Balin trailing behind looking exasperated. Bilbo realized the irony of how he had been wanting to talk to Thorin this whole time, but now that he was subjected to the king’s glower, he was speechless.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Thorin seethed.

Bilbo sighed heavily. He folded his hands behind his back and raised his chin. This wasn’t the first misunderstanding he’s had in the mountain with dwarven customs and double meanings. In fact, if it wasn’t for Bofur stepping in when he did, Bilbo would be married to one of the guards right now. Thorin had been very displeased when that particular embarrassment came to light, and Bilbo had to talk him down from banishing the poor dwarf.

“I suppose not.” Bilbo answered coolly.

“You accepted the Akrâg Azgha.” Dwalin explained.

“That much I have gathered.” Bilbo snarked back.

Thorin’s glare hadn’t let up. If anything, it seemed to increase in his fury as if he could smite Bilbo out of existence with his gaze alone. Luckily, Balin stepped in with his soothing words and sympathetic eyes.

“Laddie, you have just accepted to duel Heor for Thorin’s honor as king.”

“O-Oh.”

Maybe this was worse than the almost wedding. Much worse. Since when had it become so hard to breathe?

“I think...I need to sit down.”

Dwalin thrust a chair behind him, and Bilbo plopped down onto the hard wood as his eyes blinked in and out of focus. Balin handed him a cup of water urging him to sip which helped a little as he tried to remind himself of how to breathe correctly.

“What do we do?” Dwalin asked stepping in front of Bilbo to converse with the other two.

“This is very tricky indeed. Bilbo can’t outright forfeit. We’ll have a civil riot over Thorin’s worthiness as king.” Balin laminated.

“He can’t fight. Heor will kill him!” Thorin snapped. “I’ll denounce Bilbo’s claim as my Champion.”

“Then we risk stripping Bilbo of his honor.” Balin argued patiently.

“I think the mountain will understand.” Dwalin scoffed. “He’s just a hobbit.”

“A hobbit you lot have been building up as _Ushmar uzbâd_!” Balin snapped at his brother.

“Then we’ll send him away!” Thorin roared.

All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room as Bilbo’s cup clattered to the floor causing the three dwarves to turn back to him. 

“You’re...banishing me?” He asked quietly.

The _ugly thing_ was hardly ever brought up anymore. Bilbo had forgiven Thorin for his weakness to the gold sickness, and slowly Thorin had been able to forgive himself as well as Bilbo for his theft. That didn’t mean it hadn’t lingered in their hearts. Bilbo’s retreat to the Shire helped heal him from a lot of that, but every once and awhile, it would resurface with the same sharp, cutting pain.

Thorin’s face pinched as all the anger fled his blue eyes. It was this Thorin, the softer Thorin, the one who asked for the forgiveness of a friend that made Bilbo’s heart beat just a little bit faster. He took three steps towards Bilbo before falling to his knees before him. His hands fluttered in front of him almost unsure of where to place them before he landed on the arm rests of the chair.

“Never.” Thorin shook his head softly. “So long as I am king, you have a home here in the mountain. Please, don’t ever doubt that.”

Bilbo nodded feeling just a little ridiculous as a few tears started to streak down his face. Thorin wordlessly offered his handkerchief, and Bilbo accepted it with a small smile.

“So long as you don’t doubt that I’ll never want to leave.” He whispered.

Thorin’s face still looked grim, but there was a twinkling in his eyes that spoke of his relief in Bilbo’s words. Pacified as he was, Bilbo couldn’t help realizing just how close they remained. It was causing some rather buried feelings to invade his mind with thoughts of pulling him in even closer. Thankfully, Thorin stood back up to face Balin and Dwalin, burying his softer side under the kingly persona once more. Both of them had turned their back to the exchange in a rare show of decorum, but resumed the current discussion as if they had never stopped in the first place. Bilbo tried to focus on the conversation at hand, and not the remaining heat in his cheeks.

“If Bilbo were on a _diplomatic mission_ to Dale on my behalf at the time of the Akrâg Azgha, would that work?” Thorin asked, making sure his words were not once again misconstrued by Bilbo.

Balin’s fingers tapped against his thigh in thought before he heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know. In theory, yes, that should work, but it seems awfully…”

“Underhanded?” Dwalin offered causing both Thorin and Balin to glare at him.

Bilbo stared at the piece of blue silk with the stars of Durin embroidered in the corner. Now that his silly emotions were nullified, he felt his foolish Took courage come out in full force. There really only seemed to be one answer before them.

“I’m going to have to actually fight him, aren’t I?” He asked grimly. 

“No, you’re not.” Thorin snapped.

Balin’s shoulders merely sagged in defeat as he ignored Thorin’s interjection. “I really can’t think of another way, laddie. Obviously, the best case scenario would be for you to accept, and actually win, but even I realize that as a pipe dream.”

“And if I accept and lose, at least my honor remains intact, and Thorin can step in to challenge Heor before he gets too big of a head and thinks he’s greater than a king.” Bilbo summarized.

“That is the gist of it.” Balin nodded.

Dwalin shrugged. “Makes sense I suppose. We’ll have to do some training to make sure you don’t lose your head in the first fifteen seconds.”

Bilbo rubbed his throat as he tried not to focus too much on that mental image.

“That would be appreciated.”

Unfortunately, Thorin had been bubbling in disbelief and agitation as they laid out their plans until he could take it no more.

“BILBO IS NOT FIGHTING HEOR! I FORBID IT!”

Well, that did it. Bilbo puffed up his chest, all of his earlier irritation with the King of the Mountain returning in full force.

“You do not get to forbid me. I am no subject of yours _._ ”

“No, you’re just _Ushmar uzbâd_ , the self-declared King’s Champion. Why should I have any control over you?” Thorin sneered, getting right in his face.

Bilbo ran a hand through his hair as his nostrils flared. Valar be praised that there was at least this side of Thorin to remind him of why he never acted on his accursed fondness for the dwarf.

“What about that has so royally pissed you off?! Does your need for glory hold you so far above everyone else?”

Thorin gaped at him. His mouth opened and closed a few times with his fists shaking at his sides.

“Do you think...I am jealous of your titles, Mister Baggins?” He finally croaked.

“I think, _Mister Oakenshield,_ you have done a good enough job at making me feel at fault for a rumor I had no control over and now some brave words I knew not the implication of. What other reason is there?”

It had been a while since Bilbo had been on the receiving end of this particular glare. Whether after the incident with the trolls or on the side of the blasted Misty Mountains, he could not remember, but it still had the same ability of making him feel six inches tall. However, he was a different hobbit now than he was then, and outwardly, he met Thorin’s glower unwaveringly. The silence that squeezed the room was unrelenting until a pair of hasty footsteps and the slam of the door reminded them of where they were.

“Is it true?!” Fili panted.

“Is Bilbo fighting in the Akrâg Azgha?!” Kili demanded just as wildly.

“So it would appear.” Thorin’s soft murmur carried through the room as his eyes never moved from Bilbo’s own.

“WHAT?” The princes exclaimed together before rushing to Bilbo’s side to animatedly explain why this was a terrible idea.

The moment Bilbo turned to address them, Thorin spun around sweeping out of the room with nothing more than a hasty nod to Balin. The hobbit had to suppress the urge to groan. He was difficult to track down before. He was going to be almost impossible to find now. 

“Come on, laddie.” Dwalin nudged his back. “Go find your letter opener. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

***

“Again.” Bilbo grunted.

“Fine, but this time keep your guard up!” Dwalin growled.

The dwarf charged at him holding his axe at the ready before swinging it down towards him. Bilbo blocked the attack, remembering not to hold his ground against a stronger opponent. He rolled left letting his blade scrape against Dwalin’s axe head before swinging it around to the dwarf’s exposed side. Dwalin spun the axe to sweep under Bilbo’s attack, but he had learned his lesson on this little trick. He flicked his wrists just right to maintain control of his blade which kept it from flying out his hands, again.

Dwalin kept his weapon in tight now as he advanced on Bilbo with a series of quick, short swipes. Just as they had practiced, Bilbo blocked and parried each attack until the last one where he was forced to use his blade to hold against Dwalin’s attack. He winced as he tried to think of a way out, but it was too late. With a small shove from the dwarf, Bilbo went flying across the practice grounds landing on his backside with his sword skating several inches out of reach.

“Yield.” Dwalin stated in a bored drawl, holding his axe unnecessarily to Bilbo’s throat.

“I yield.” Bilbo groaned.

“I told you already. You won’t ever outpower a dwarf, so don’t put yourself in that situation.” He assessed as he reached down to help Bilbo up. “With that being said, you’re getting better. You could last a whole three minutes now.”

Bilbo scoffed as he brushed himself down before retrieving his sword. It’s not like he expected to be instantaneously better, but it’s been ten days. The deadline was looming closer, and Bilbo was losing faith that anything was going to happen in that battle other than his death. He took his stance facing Dwalin as he ignored the sweat pouring down his face.

“Again.” 

The taller dwarf obeyed getting into position once again. Bilbo waited for Dwalin to charge him again. That was the strategy Dwalin was trying to pound into him. Play defense as long as he could. However, Bilbo couldn’t help thinking the trouble with that logic is eventually defenses break. He was going to have to go on the attack at some point. 

Dwalin lifted his axe, and Bilbo thought he saw an opening to sneak underneath him. Before he could even thrust his sword towards Dwalin’s belly, the handle of the axe came down on Bilbo’s hands forcing him to release his blade with a yelp and the flat of Dwalin’s blade hit his backside for added measure. Dwalin was fond of using humiliation to help him realize just how stupid his mistakes were in the hope he would not repeat them.

“You’re quick, but not that quick.” He explained.

Bilbo snatched his sword off the ground before taking his position once more.

“Again!” He snarled.

Dwalin lowered his axe as he shook his head.

“You’ve got a hot head. Come on, let’s take a break.”

“You dwarves fight with a hot head all the time!” Bilbo complained.

“But you’re not a dwarf, are you Master Hobbit?” Dwalin quirked an eyebrow.

Bilbo glared at him wanting to complain and argue until he was blue in the face. Dwalin merely cocked his head to the side before turning away. Bilbo heaved a heavy sigh as he followed his friend over to where they set their waterskins. As they learned early on, Bilbo did not make an emotional fighter. It would probably be more accurate to call it flailing, if Fili and Kili’s exaggerations from that particular day of training were anything to go off. Jokes aside, he knew all his friends were trying to help, but he had rather assumed after all they had been through thus far, that he would be better at this. It stung rather deep to have his failures so obviously observed and pointed out.

“Why are you doing this?” Dwalin questioned out of the blue.

Bilbo slowly looked up wondering when his friend had taken a head injury.

“I accepted the damned duel?” Bilbo declared, only it came out more like a question.

Dwalin snorted. “I remember that much, Hobbit. And I know Balin believes this is about the only path available to you, but you don’t care about honor. You never had. It’s how you were able to take the Arkenstone out of this mountain. You care about results, and right now you’re not fighting to survive. You’re fighting to win. So why are you doing this?”

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably not realizing he was that transparent. Bilbo tried to figure out how best to summarize his feelings of the past few days. The whispers in the hallways from Thorin’s subjects believing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was greater than he appeared. He tried to work out how to explain that Thorin was on his mind every moment of every day, and how he could not accept defeat so easily when it was for him that he was fighting this lopsided battle.

“Is it like you accused Thorin of? Is it for glory?” Dwalin pressed.

Bilbo turned to him affronted, only to see a surprisingly honest expression on the warrior’s face. Bilbo appreciated that Dwalin didn’t seem like he would judge Bilbo if his motives were so selfish. Perhaps in the eyes of a warrior, glory was just as worthy a reason as any. Still that wasn’t Bilbo’s reason.

“No, no.” Bilbo shook his head. “It’s because...it was Thorin’s honor that was challenged. You are fair to assess I don’t make choices with regards to it. Although I will be quick to point out I do hold my own to high standards in spite of certain decisions I’ve made in the past. But Thorin...look at what he’s done. Look at what he’s built. No one should ever doubt him, and because I was stupid enough to stick my foot in my mouth...They all believe them, Dwalin. Those stupid stories about me saving Thorin’s life on the quest like _I_ _was the noble hero_? If I fail and they start to question Thorin...believe that he isn’t worth…”

Dwalin’s large hand settled heavily on his shoulder.

“Shush, lad. One battle isn’t going to erase all of Thorin’s deeds.”

Bilbo was embarrassed to learn that he had begun to cry during his little speech. He quickly swiped at the tears before they could drip down his chin.

“No, but I am of the Shire. I know how gossip can damage a reputation.”

Dwalin grunted as he took another swig from his waterskin. They sat for a moment in companionable silence while Bilbo reigned in his emotions.

“Well, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. No matter which side the rocks fall, we’ll handle whatever comes from it.”

Bilbo smirked at Dwalin’s rather optimistic spin. He couldn’t stop himself from poking fun at him though.

“Even if I die?”

“Don’t do that!” He ordered pointing a finger in his direction. “Mahal! I can’t even imagine dealing with Thorin after that. No, I need you to live so I can goad him about waiting so long.”

Bilbo's grin held steady as he cocked his head. “Waiting so long for what?”

Dwalin snorted. “Him waiting so long with you.”

All of the good humor Bilbo had beforehand diminished as his brows furrowed.

“What about me?”

Dwalin smirked at him, but clearly there was something in Bilbo’s expression that keyed him into how utterly clueless he was in this conversation.

“But you?! He? Ugh! You’re both idiots!” He complained, throwing his hands in the air.

Bilbo did not like the implications that he was missing something obvious especially when it concerned Thorin. 

“Dwalin...” He stated intent on getting answers before the tall dwarf cut him off.

“I’m not saying anything else. I don’t fancy having an enraged king out for my neck because you both are too stupid to talk to each other.”

“I want to talk to him!” Bilbo shouted. “But he…”

Dwalin’s hand came down on his shoulder.

“I know, lad. What do you say to one more lesson before calling it a night.”

Bilbo scolded, still wanted to talk about whatever it was that Thorin had yet to do, but recognized Dwalin wasn’t going to give him the answers he needed. Instead, he picked his sword back up ready to let Dwalin knock him around a few more times before calling it a night. As he headed back to the ring, he thought he saw movement by the doorway causing him to look up. There didn’t seem to be anyone there though. Blaming it on the flickering flames of the lamp light, Bilbo resumed his stance against Dwalin.

***

He couldn’t remember the last time he was this sore as he dragged his beaten body to his room all the way in the upper levels of the mountain. He had been thankful at the time to Thorin for thinking to give him a room with a balcony, but now he couldn’t help questioning if there was something sadistic in making him climb all those stairs. He unlocked his door, dropping his sword in the entranceway as he fumbled with the flint to light the nearest candle. He mumbled some curses at his clumsiness as he struggled to spark the wick when he finally got it to catch on the fifth try. He picked the candle up and turned to head to the bedroom, only to cry out and accidentally blow it out upon seeing a face stare at him from his armchair. 

“Aw, and you worked so hard to get the flame started.”

A lamp was lit next to the dwarf giving Bilbo a good look at his unexpected guest.

“Nori? Shuf! Were you trying to kill me?” Bilbo complained with a hand over his rapidly beating heart.

The spy gave a wide grin at Bilbo’s use of khuzdul before it tapered into his usual smirk.

“Now why would I do that when you’ll be dead in a few days anyways?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he walked over to light his candle against Nori’s flame giving the room just a little more light. He plopped down in the opposite settee too tired to play host and get some tea. Not that Nori would have appreciated it anyways.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He asked letting sarcasm drip from each syllable.

“I’ve decided to take over your training for the Akrâg Azgha.”

Bilbo’s nose twitched as he tried to formulate a response that wouldn’t be insulting.

“Dwalin...seems well-suited to the task.” Bilbo offered.

“Aye, and he’ll do his level best to turn you into a warrior.” Nori agreed as he pulled out a pipe and lit the bowl. “But contrary to popular belief, you’re not a warrior. Every scrape you’ve gotten us out of was because you were sneaky and smart. That’s going to be how you win this time too.”

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably on his cushioned seat. 

“Nori, I appreciate the offer. I really do, but this is an honor duel. I don’t think it would be right if I used cheap tricks and deceitful maneuvers.”

A large puff of smoke escaped into the room as Nori threw his head back in laughter. 

“Trust me Burglar, I know a thing or two about maintaining appearances. Nothing I teach you will reflect poorly on you or Thorin. And my tricks aren’t cheap.”

Bilbo smiled in spite of himself. He knew Nori’s training wouldn’t be easy and most definitely wouldn’t be how things were usually done. Still, Dwalin’s training hadn’t exactly been a picnic on the hillside, and he was a hobbit in a mountain of dwarves. He wasn’t exactly usual. A warmth swelled inside his chest, and he realized he may actually stand a chance.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Bilbo questioned.

Nori stood up with a nod and one last mischievous grin before leaving with instructions to get some sleep. He didn’t think it would be that easy with only three days left before the duel, but he clearly underestimated his exhaustion. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was yanked into a deep, dreamless unconsciousness leaving all the intricacies of the waking world behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I struggled with the end but *sigh* it's done. Now, we can finally get to the duel between Bilbo and Heor! Thanks for all the support so far! Visit [my tumblr page](https://sunnyrosewritesstuff.tumblr.com/) just to chat or check out other WIPs. 
> 
> *Shuf- khuzdul exclamation of relief


	3. Guardian in Deed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's duel with Heor has finally arrived.

Bifur and Bofur worked quickly and efficiently to get Bilbo suited up. Perhaps it was ignorance on his part, but he didn’t realize there were so many pieces. First went on the cuisse to protect his thighs, and he reluctantly allowed the greaves on his shins appreciating how they didn’t pinch or pull his leg hair. The breastplate and pauldron went over his shoulders and chest. Vambraces were tightened over his forearms, and the gorget went around his neck. It was somewhat comforting after all the talk of him losing his head.

Bilbo rolled his shoulders and bounced on his toes when they were done. The armor was all leather so it was light and allowed maneuverability. Yet, layered in the leather was perfectly sized pieces of steel to protect his body from damage. He found the whole ensemble quite clever and was rather impressed by how well it fit. As if it were made for him. He would have to ask where they found it if he... _after_ he survived. The only thing left was the helm held gingerly in Bofur’s arms. He gave Bilbo a rather weak smile when compared to his usual jovial temperament.

“For your soft hobbit head. We don’t want you taking any more hits to it.” He explained.

Bilbo swallowed and tried to return the smile, but it came out more as a grimace. 

“Um, right, well that would be...much appreciated.”

Once again, the metal slipped over his skull, cradling it with leather padding on the interior that fit snugly without being constricting. Bilbo had to wonder why they had hobbit sized armor just laying around somewhere.

“So? How do I look?” Bilbo asked after strapping Sting onto his hip.

Bifur and Bofur just stared at him with the most forlorn looks he had ever seen. It seemed to be more than the older dwarf could take, and Bifur pulled him into a tight hug murmuring rapid khuzdul in his ear. Luckily, Bilbo’s lessons were paying off, and he was actually able to catch most of it.

“Mukhuh Mahal bakhuz murukhzu. Menu gamut khed. (May Mahal’s hammer shield you. You are a wonderful person.)”

“Âkminrûk zu (thank you), Bifur.”

Bifur bumped his forehead against Bilbo’s with just slightly more force than usual knowing the helm would protect him. Bilbo turned to Bofur who looked very close to being teary-eyed.

“Aye, our hobbit is one of a kind.” He stated before pulling Bilbo into an embrace before whispering mournfully in his ear. “If I could take it all back I would. In a heartbeat.”

Bilbo knew his friend felt guilty for spreading the ushmar uzbâd stories around, but as far as Bilbo was concerned this was a mess of his own making. He wouldn’t let the dwarf bear any of his burden.

“Don’t take it all back. I’ve never seen ale fly out of someone’s nose the way it did Bombur the first time you told me.”

Bofur gave him a weak smile. “Aye, that was a good night.”

“Let’s have another. Tonight. After I’m done.” Bilbo promised.

Bofur nodded in agreement. “We’ll get Bombur to fire up the stove. Shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes to finish with that kakhuf inbarathrag (goat turd).”

Bilbo gripped his forearm with a soft smile before turning to the arena entrance where the rest of the company waited. Well, all but one. Bilbo tried not to let it bother him as he received their slaps on the back and words of encouragement. Nori caught him around the shoulders just before he walked through the tunnel into the battlegrounds. 

“You’re going to be just fine. Just remember what I taught you this week, and I’m going to be a very rich dwarf.”

“You all placed bets on whether or not I would die?” Bilbo asked, offended.

Nori scoffed. “Of course not! We’re not goblin-bred. We just bet on how long it would take you to win.”

Bilbo huffed a laugh as he bowed his head humbly.

“Nori, I can’t thank you enough. I would have had no confidence going into today if it wasn’t for you.”

Nori winked. “Finish this in twenty minutes or less, and you will more than make up for it.”

Bilbo shot him a large smirk and a nod before taking one last look at his friends. He could tell behind all the bravado that they were nervous for him, even Nori. He committed each one of them to memory, even as he tried to maintain his optimism. Still, it was the missing member that tugged at his heart. 

He had no more words for the dwarf king. If he was going to potentially have their spat be the last words between them, so be it. Bilbo started down the tunnel that would lead him into the stadium when an arm reached out from the shadows to pull him over to the side. Bilbo was ready to scream out for his friends when he caught dark hair and blue eyes shining in the torchlight.

“Thorin?!” Bilbo huffed. “Are you trying to stop my heart?”

In actuality, it was beating harsher than ever as a warmth at finally seeing the elusive dwarf took over.

“I wanted to apologize. I was unnecessarily harsh when last we spoke.” He cut straight to the chase.

Bilbo could feel himself physically melting as a smile split his face.

“No, it’s alright. I mean, I wasn’t exactly at my best either.”

Thorin returned the grin. One of the most beautiful sights this world had to offer.

“Not something completely untrue, I’m sure.”

Bilbo looked down and chuckled before meeting Thorin’s gaze again. Somehow, within that time, Thorin had moved closer forcing Bilbo to crane his neck as Thorin’s hand hovered a hair’s breadth from Bilbo’s covered cheek. Coherent thought had all but lost him as he tried to think of anything else to say. Anything to make this moment last.

“I’m glad you came.” He blurted, immediately wincing at his stupidity. “I mean, you had to come since it’s your honor I’m fighting for, but I’m glad you came to see me. Down here. You know before I-”

“Don’t go.” Thorin spoke over his rambling.

“I’m sorry?” Bilbo questioned off-guard.

“Don’t fight Heor. We’ll find another way. Please, Bilbo.”

For a small moment, Bilbo was tempted to agree. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as if physically trying to block out Thorin’s words. All his ideals, all his reasons for why he had to do this was being torn out from under him all because Thorin begged. He has reached a new level of pathetic. While he still had the strength, he took a step away from Thorin and towards the arena. When he looked back up, heartbreak was painted in Thorin’s expressive eyes.

“You could have said something...days ago.” Bilbo whispered, pain laced in his voice. 

“I know.” Thorin declared desperately as he reached out for Bilbo’s hand. “I know, but I’m saying it now.”

It wasn’t fair of Thorin to ask this of him. Not after the week and a half of sore muscles, blisters, and bruises. 

“Thorin, I have to.” Bilbo explained, just a little harsher. “I have to do this...for myself.”

“Yourself?” Thorin raised an eyebrow. “So this is for glory then.”

“No!” Bilbo quickly backtracked. “It’s for the hobbit trying to survive a dwarven world.”

“I’ve never asked you to be anything more than a hobbit!” He argued.

“Which is fine, but it doesn’t exactly make me…”

And there they were. The words he hadn’t let into his heart or his mind this whole time. It’s not like this one battle would change anything, but his stupid, desperate heart wanted it anyways. The horn blared to announce the beginning of the fight, and Bilbo started to back away towards the entrance. The words unspoken hanging heavy in the air between them until Bilbo turned his back on him entirely. 

“I’ll see you after the duel.” Bilbo promised over his shoulder.

He refused to turn around and meet Thorin’s gaze as he all but ran through the remainder of the tunnel. Squinting against the bright light of the stadium, it was the words unspoken that wouldn’t leave him. _It doesn’t exactly make me worthy of you._ And he had to be, in the eyes of Thorin’s people. Bilbo couldn’t let him dream of anything else with Thorin if he wasn’t seen as worthy of the king’s attention. Naive dream that it was.

When Bilbo finally felt brave enough to look back at the dwarf king, he was already gone. He hefted a sigh. This was it then. His uncovered feet made no noise against the stone floor beneath him. Many dwarves already filled the stands cheering loudly for the battle although Bilbo could not tell who it was they were cheering for. None were probably more animated than his companions from the King’s Box as Fili and Kili were practically vibrating with energy which was infectious amongst the rest. A smile split his face before his gaze met Nori. The dwarf pointed to his eyes before pointing behind Bilbo. He nodded in understanding as he turned around to face his opponent. Lesson one. For him, this battle had already begun.

***

_Bilbo audibly gulped as he held his sword between him and his opponent. Dwalin was certainly not a warrior to scoff at, but Bilbo had heard stories from the goblin tunnels. About Dori ripping arms straight off their bodies. He wasn’t shy about admitting his fear of fighting the dwarf across from him._

_“Lesson one. You are going to steal from Dori. What do you do?”_

_Bilbo shot a perplexed look at the dwarven thief. Ori was the one to speak his thoughts while Dori just fumed at the middle brother._

_“I thought you were going to be teaching him how to win the Akrâg Azgha?”_

_“You said you were going to take this seriously!” Dori accused at the same time._

_“I am.” Nori chastised both before turning back to Bilbo. “Now how are you going to steal from Dori?”_

_Bilbo was still so lost. He kept looking between Dori, Nori, and his sword._

_“I...wouldn’t?”_

_Nori groaned as if Bilbo was the one being especially obtuse._

_“Think!” He demanded jamming the hobbit in the forehead. “You’re not a friend, you’re not a warrior, Dori has something you want, what do you do?”_

_Bilbo rubbed the spot that Nori poked as he glared at the dwarf. Seeing he wasn’t about to budge though, Bilbo rolled his eyes and put energy into the task given to him. What did Nori want him to see? He looked at Dori who was staring at him with much of the same lost expression that Ori had. Okay, that was something. Nori had specifically asked both of his brothers here, but made Dori his target. There had to be a reason. Then, it clicked._

_“I would misplace one of Ori’s quills. Dori becomes distracted with the need to help his baby brother, and when his back is turned, I’ll have an opening.”_

_Dori’s jaw dropped, and Ori also looked shocked as he subtly clutched his quills a little tighter. Nori grin was the only indicator that Bilbo had answered correctly._

_“And how do you get Ori’s quills from him?” Nori pressed._

_Bilbo shrugged. “He’s naturally curious and easily distracted. I would make a loud noise, tap his shoulder, something to get him to turn his head. His hands relax when he’s not paying attention to what’s in them.”_

_Ori’s knuckles were practically white now. Bilbo winced knowing he was going to have to make it up to his friend later. Nori, however, was practically giddy._

_“Now, you’re thinking! Thieves need to size up a situation in the blink of an eye. They have to learn behaviors, habits, and weaknesses so they can exploit them. That’s how you’re going to beat Heor.”_

_“Did you call us down here to do any actual training with Bilbo?” Dori complained, seeming put off by the entire experience._

_“Hmm?” Nori answered distractedly. “Oh, no. You two are free to go.”_

_“I don’t think you two should be left alone together.” Ori replied grumpily. “Erebor will fall.”_

_“You do have a point.” Dori nodded with his arms crossed._

_“Right now I’m just focused on the Akrâg Azgha. We’ll take over Erebor another time.” Nori waved them off._

_Both brothers rolled their eyes, and Bilbo gave them a grin as he apologized and promised to make it up to them later with his tea and scones. The Ri brothers were still grumbling as they left, but they seemed less perturbed with the offer._

_“Alright, now let’s get to business.” Nori declared leading Bilbo away from the training grounds._

_Bilbo sighed as he sheathed his sword once more. “Are we going to get any actual training in today?”_

_“Where do you think we’re going?” Nori scoffed._

_"Weapons training.” Bilbo clarified._

_"You’ve had enough of that with Dwalin.” Nori waved him off. “I’m going to train your head to think under pressure. To read a stranger. To outwit Heor.”_

_Bilbo supposed that made sense. Besides, it wasn’t like he had much to lose at this point._

***

Okay, look for ways to exploit Heor. Bilbo had spent the rest of that first day of training with Nori down at the marketplace watching the crowds. He had to say, he had a deeper appreciation for the thief. No wonder Thorin made him his spymaster.

Bilbo’s eyes racked the dwarf before him, and he found his mouth going suddenly dry. The heavy armor of Heor somehow managed to add two inches in height and five inches in girth making the large dwarf appear even more intimidating. No wonder everyone was worried. He legitimately was going to lose his life deep in these mountain halls.

Blue eyes begging him not to go flashed before his eyes, and Bilbo shook his head. He had to focus. He was doing this for Thorin. He who has stood between Azog the Defiler and his prey. _Of course, he never actually fought Azog the Defiler…_

Nope, wrong thought line. Just start picking apart Heor inch by inch. If he was going to steal from him, where would he target? There were no openings in his armor. He stood equally on his feet so no weaknesses in his legs. His helm was loose. Something to consider, but not quite the edge he needed. Heor raised his arms to incite the crowd, and that’s when BIlbo saw it. He had a hitch in his right shoulder, his sword arm. That he could work with. 

He turned back to Nori and pinched his middle finger and thumb together shaking his hand back and forth. The signal they worked out when he found what he needed. Nori smirked and nodded his head in approval before whispering something to Gloin that caused the red head to break out in a wide grin and a laugh. Just a few seats above them, Bilbo noticed Thorin had finally made it back only to look above the proceedings as if he could pretend Bilbo was not down there. 

Bilbo knew his friend was worried, but he hoped Thorin would look down and see the glistening confidence in his eyes and his stance. He had a plan, and he wasn’t about to lose this fight. Dwalin started to pound the butt of his axe onto the stone floor before him. A move that was echoed by the rest of the guards stationed around the arena. A hush fell over the crowd causing a new spike of nerves to travel down his back and into his arms and legs. He was suddenly finding it hard to stay still.

Balin stood up from beside Thorin to speak out to the crowd. His voice amplifying in the bowl-like shape of the arena. Even speaking Khuzdul, Bilbo was able to translate a lot of what he was saying.

“The Akrâg Azgha issued by Heor son of Freon, survivor of Azanulbizar..”

Bilbo looked over at Heor’s smug face with newfound dread. He was a part of that awful battle that took nearly Thorin’s entire family? Sweet Yavanna, no wonder everyone thought he was about to die.

“Has been accepted by Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, Khuzdbâha, and Ushmar Uzbâd…”

Bilbo could live a thousand years and not have to hear that term ever again.

“On behalf of our King, Thorin son of Thrain, known Oakenshield. First to yield or become…incapcitated in any way will lose the right to stand as victor and accept his spoils, which have been outlined in a contract both parties have signed.”

Bilbo glared at Heor at that. He had thought in that meeting yesterday that Heor would only ask for the right to mine once more. However, he pushed his luck asking for a share of the treasure of Erebor he had not earned from the quest, and Thorin’s unwavering support as well. If Bilbo hadn’t been tempted before this to win, that definitely pushed him over the top. He would not let Thorin be crippled by this greedy dwarf.

Balin had advised Bilbo beforehand on what he could demand with his victory. After hearing Heor’s list, the task became much easier. If he won, Heor would never challenge the king again, he was to be banned from open court for six months, and he must publicially defend his King at every opportunity. The glare he received for the last one promised pain the following day. Even now as Bilbo stared across at his opponent, Heor’s glare had not lessened.

“Since this is a matter of honor, the contestants will now grip forearms.”

Bilbo could hear the reluctance in Balin’s tone, but Dwalin had prepared him for this. Both he and Heor marched to the center of the ring and reached out with their right arms to grasp nearly at the elbow. Bilbo expected the quick touch, and then to be done with it, but Heor used his size and strength to pull Bilbo in tight so he could whisper in his ear.

“It’s not too late to back out, Halfling. I would rather not have your blood on my hands, no matter what you might claim to be.”

Bilbo felt his cheeks heat up at the implication that he was both soft and a liar. The first might be true, but he had always strove towards honesty...with a few minor exceptions. He plucked that pesky Took courage and met Heor’s gaze unwavering.

“You are not the first to underestimate me, and I dare say you won’t be the last. But you underestimate me all the same.”

“Thanks for the advice. Watch your head.” Heor mocked before releasing him and walking away.

Bilbo fumed at his backside before retreating to his side as well. He took the designated number of paces, and then he turned to face Heor.

“Ready?” Balin announced.

Bilbo withdrew his sword, and Heor hefted his large battle axe into position.

“Let the Akrâg Azgha begin!”

***

_“You’re small.” Nori declared sizing Bilbo up as he went through his warm-up exercises._

_“I am not small! I am a perfectly respectable size for a hobbit.” Bilbo grunted._

_“So small for a dwarf.” Nori shrugged._

_“Do you have a point to this?” He sighed, slightly put out._

_“Yes!” Nori declared enthusiastically. “Lesson number two: know your strengths. You are small and you have little to no battle experience.”_

_“These are supposed to be strengths?” Bilbo stopped swinging his sword to raise an eyebrow at Nori._

_The thief rolled his eyes. Bilbo was quickly learning that training with Nori was having the dwarf get irritated when he didn’t follow his insane thought process the first time around._

_“Heor won’t know how to fight an opponent like you. He’s used to dwarves trained the same as him, or orcs and goblins whose only battle strategy is ‘kill’. He won’t know how to handle someone like you.”_

_Bilbo saw the glint of steel in Nori’s hand and had just enough time to dive to the side before being stabbed by Nori’s throwing knife. His heart was pounding as he glared at the dwarf about to interject. Nori, of course, beat him to it._

_“Put that together with your sharp eyes and swift feet, and you definitely have an advantage. We just have to expose it.”_

_Nori’s smile was still in place as Bilbo scolded up at him, having more than a few things to say about Nori’s training methods._

_“Do you promise to warn me the next time before you throw one of those things?!” Bilbo complained._

_Nori’s grin widened as he pulled out three more._

_“Consider yourself warned.”_

***

Bilbo would have been heavily irate indeed had he lost a toe in Nori’s psychotic training, but it seemed to have done the trick. As soon as the go ahead had been given, Heor came charging upon him, his axe hefted backwards to cut Bilbo clean in two. However, compared to Nori and Dwalin, his movements almost seemed too slow, and he quickly ducked out of the way. His sword struck the mail on Heor’s exposed right side causing gasps of amazement amongst the crowd. 

Heor spun around incredulous that Bilbo had landed the first hit. The hobbit held his sword out at the ready, a smug smirk present on his lips. Heor retaliated with a side swipe, but Bilbo blocked the blade, and danced inside where the hitch in his shoulder couldn’t reach as he tapped him on the back.

“He’s playing with him!” He heard a shout from the crowd.

It was only somewhat true. Dwalin was the one who showed him that reacting emotionally wasn’t always best in these situations. Besides, Bilbo’s hits weren’t strong enough to do any real damage. That would come later.

***

_“So...you think you’re finally ready, laddie?” Dwalin grunted standing across from Bilbo leaning on his axe, but his eyes went above him._

_Nori’s hand squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder in support as he glared back at the guard._

_“Twenty crowns, he takes you down in ten moves or less.” Nori declared confidently._

_“Twenty crowns and two pints.” Dwalin grinned before picking up his weapon._

_The taller dwarf was decked out in battle armor to give Bilbo a taste of what to expect the next day. Even though this was just supposed to be one last friendly training session, to Bilbo this mattered. This was his final chance to prove himself before facing Heor. Nori bent down to whisper last minute advice in his ear._

_“Put it all together now, Bilbo. Find his weaknesses, use your advantage, get him to react emotionally, and finish this in ten moves or less.”_

_React emotionally. Before training with Nori, Bilbo had thought that meant reacting in anger and heartbreak which always seemed to make the dwarves stronger. However, Nori had him focus on how to make an opponent confused, frustrated, what he called ‘soft emotions’._

_Nori pat his back before retreating to the side. Bilbo narrowed his eyes as he assessed Dwalin. Of course, he knew this dwarf. He already knew what he was looking for and where to hit. He gave his signal to Nori to let him know he was ready, and they began. Nori was right about how soldiers were trained. Now that Bilbo was looking for it, Dwalin began every spar with him the exact same way._

_Dwalin’s axe went up, and Bilbo held ground before spinning left to attack his flank. One. Dwalin caught his blade in time to side swipe him. Bilbo blocked the blade, but rather than hold, he used the momentum of the swing to bring him behind Dwalin. Two. Dwalin quickly righted himself, and Bilbo continued circling him, hitting him on the right side. Three. Dwalin tried to back up to get his bearings, and Bilbo followed him to roll between his large legs. Four. Dwalin looked down bewildered, and Bilbo kicked at the back of his knee. Five. Dwalin stumbled as he tried to swing down at Bilbo. The hobbit was already moving though as he swung right catching Dwalin’s hip with a light tap. Six._

_The warrior was clearly disoriented as all of his weight now rested on his left heel. He tried to get himself back into the guard position, but it was too late now. Bilbo dropped down, hooked his foot behind his leg, and pulled. Seven. Dwalin fell to the ground with an ‘oomph’. His axe was still clutched tightly though. Bilbo swung down, and Dwalin blocked his attack as anticipated. Eight. He jumped, letting his weight crash down on the handle, pinning Dwalin’s hands underneath both the axe and Bilbo’s weight. Nine. With that, he pointed his sword down towards Dwalin’s neck._

_“Yield.” He demanded._

_The bewildered dwarf merely stared up at him in shock before a giant grin broke out across his face._

_“I yield.”_

_“AND THAT’S TEN!” Bilbo declared jumping to his feet._

_He couldn’t believe it. He just beat Dwalin. He beat him fairly in combat. He turned to Nori unable to contain the elation beaming from ear to ear. The thief huffed a laugh shaking his head as he raised an eyebrow at Dwalin._

_“Aren’t you supposed to be the King’s Guard or something?”_

_“Little bugger used my own height against me.” Dwalin gruffed, climbing back to his feet before ruffling Bilbo’s hair. “Still, I think our little Ushmar Uzbâd might stand a chance of winning tomorrow.”_

_Nori may have been smirking, but his eyes were full of pride._

_“He just might.”_

***

Bilbo was now at three. Heor released a bellow of rage before swinging down for another hit on the hobbit, but as it came down over his right shoulder, there was a catch. Bilbo used it to make it look like he was lifting Heor’s axe over Bilbo’s body before bringing down another hit on the dwarf’s right side. Four.

Heor spun around trying to keep Bilbo away from his back, and Bilbo spun back to the left in order to disorientate the dwarf keeping his blade between his body and Heor’s axe. Five. The bigger dwarf was beginning to sweat profusely, and he seemed almost perplexed by the hobbit’s movement. He wasn’t as tall as Dwalin so a lot of Bilbo’s tricks that he used against the guard wouldn’t work on this dwarf, but he swung down at his left leg just to keep him moving. Six.

Heor jerked, and tried to swing at Bilbo, but right when his shoulder hitched again, Bilbo spun back right and got his upper arm that time. Seven. Bilbo knew his hits weren’t doing any damage yet, but it seemed to be a bruise to the dwarf’s pride. In a blind rage, he held his axe down at his side, and spun in a full, tight circle to force Bilbo to back away. The hobbit smirked moving out range, but managing to stay behind the dwarf. Heor looked around bewildered even as the crowd screamed to look behind him. Bilbo smacked him with the flat side of his blade. Eight.

Bilbo’s toying with him was what finally did the large dwarf in, and Bilbo didn’t need his tenth move. As Heor pulled back to smash his axe down hard on the annoying hobbit, Bilbo snaked up on the right side. The hitch in the shoulder gave him plenty of time to get in close and hold his blade under the dwarf’s chin as his ninth move. 

“Yield.” He demanded.

The crowd was cheering wildly which may have taken just a bit of Bilbo’s attention away from the still armed dwarf before him. For he made one small error of judgement. He thought Heor was proficient only with his right arm. Heor growled as he switched the axe effortlessly to his left, and pushing Bilbo’s blade away with his right cutting deep into his palm. Bilbo was left with no time to react before Heor’s axe swung around to catch the left side of his ribs. 

Fire raced through his body as he was thrown nearly five feet back by the blow. All he could think was that he had to be dying as his hand dropped to the wound, and his body curled in response to the pain. He forced himself to remember to breathe properly through the blood roaring in his head. Luckily, none of it was leaving his body. His hand dropped away, and there was murmur amongst the crowd as his leather and shirt had been cut away to reveal the glittering mithril beneath.

He barely had a moment to mentally thank Thorin for the gift that has now saved his life twice, before Heor was back swinging down upon him. Bilbo instinctively lifted his blade to block, and became locked against Heor’s axe. Dwalin’s voice was immediately screaming inside his head.

_You won’t overpower a dwarf! Bad form! Bad form!_

It was exactly that moment that Bilbo experienced true terror for the first time in this battle. His eyes must have been swimming in it, because Heor’s were full of triumph as he pushed down with his weight. Bilbo’s muscles strained to hold up against the dwarf as his blade lowered closer and closer to Bilbo’s chest.

“BILBO!”

Thorin’s voice somehow managed to ring above everything. The haze cleared momentarily from his eyes, and he was able to notice the blood staining the handle of the axe. He rolled the edge of his blade to get his body out from under the head of the axe. The slickness of the blood causing Heor to momentarily falter. Panic was making his thoughts still sluggish as he tried to think of how to get this duel back in his favor. Heor didn’t need more than that half-moment to launch his next attack. He kicked out at Bilbo, and the burning in his ribs made him to slow to avoid the attack. 

Bilbo went flying only to land hard on the ground. His sword skirting off in one direction and his helm in another. He was only vaguely aware of the boos and jeers of the crowd at Heor’s move. Being the crowd favorite was not high on Bilbo’s priority list, however. Bilbo’s main focus was upon retrieving his sword as he scrambled on hands and knees for the blade. Heor’s shadow fell over him, and Bilbo realized it was too late. He was actually going to lose his head.

When he had been forced to envision this moment, he had imagined he would go out with a little more dignity. Instead, he found himself screaming as he rolled himself into a tight ball. His arms covering the back of his neck. Clearly Heor had not expected him to stop or scream for that matter because Bilbo felt Heor’s boot collide with the same ribs that had already withstood his axe, and then the dwarf was on the ground next to him. 

The loose helm did him no favors as his head hit the stone hard, and then smacked back against the helm. Dwarves may have hard heads, but the double impact seemed to have momentarily stunned him. Of course, Bilbo wasn’t waiting to see what would happen if he got back up. He dove for his sword before rolling on top of Heor holding the point close enough to draw a small bead of blood.

“YIELD!” Bilbo demanded, his own emotions getting the better of him.

Heor gave Bilbo a confused look before glaring down at the blade against his neck. He made a move as if to reach for his axe, and Bilbo pressed just a little harder. 

“Do it, and your life is forfeit.” Bilbo warned grimly.

Heor dropped his hands immediately. His gaze was full of hate as he bitterly spat the words Bilbo wanted.

“I yield.”

The roars from the crowd was deafening. Bilbo barely heard Balin announce him the winner as he went through the motions of getting back to his feet and sheathing his sword. It wasn’t until someone was swinging him up into a tight hug that everything came back into sharp focus.

“Ow, ow, ow! My ribs! Kili, put me down!”

“You were amazing, Bilbo!” Kili praised even after he released him.

“Aye! That move where you got underneath his right side...I thought you had him for sure!” Fili added trying to reenact Bilbo’s exact movement.

Bilbo stumbled under Gloin’s heavy arm that wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him into a side hug.

“Aye! And wearing the mithril armor!” He declared poking at Bilbo’s side ignoring the hobbit’s pained yelp. “You are full of surprises, Mister Baggins!”

Luckily, Oin was there pulling his brother away as he growled at anyone who tried to get close. Bilbo was heavily appreciative of the healer’s attention as he felt along his ribs with gentle fingers, stopping the moment Bilbo flinched. 

“Bruised more than likely, but let’s get you to the infirmary and get them wrapped up anyways.”

Bilbo sighed thinking he was finished with the rough treatment when Nori slapped him on the back of his head.

“Twenty- _one_ minutes. Just one minute sooner, Hobbit!”

“Well whatever you lost you can just take out of my share in the treasury.” Bilbo sniffed defensively.

“Although, twenty-one minutes is nothing to sneeze at.” Balin pointed out giving Nori an appraising look. “Perhaps we have the wrong dwarf in charge of training the guards.”

Dwalin grunted in outrage even as Balin gave his brother a large mischievous grin.

“Nah, they have to have a bit of brain power for me to be able to work with them.” Nori teased, causing Dwalin to turn red.

Bilbo tuned out the argument as exhaustion, pain, and a dizzying feeling of relief crashed down on top of him. In fact, the dizziness was morphing to the point of lights dancing in his vision. Then he was staring into blue eyes.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been more scared in my life.” Thorin admitted softly as he tugged Bilbo into the safety of his warm, strong arms. “I know I should learn my lesson by now, but I am sorry I doubted you...again.”

Bilbo grinned as the same words he spoke to Thorin once before easily found their way to his tongue.

“No, I would have doubted me too.” He answered in the same soft tone.

Thorin chuckled and the rumbling through his chest was soothing to Bilbo. It made it so easy for him to just close his eyes…

“Well, no more of that. You are now truly Ushmar Uzbâd.”

“That’s nice.” Bilbo murmured patting Thorin’s shoulder, his words taking on a slight slur. “But can you still do me a favor?”

“Anything.” Thorin declared pulling back to look at him.

“Catch me.” Bilbo demanded.

He had just enough time to savor Thorin’s look of confusion before his world became swallowed in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I have always considered battles scenes as my writer's weakness. I hope this came across okay and wasn't just a mess of 'bleh'. Please feel free to check out [my tumblr page](https://sunnyrosewritesstuff.tumblr.com/) to chat or see other little drabbles of mine. Thanks for all the support!


	4. Guardian by Reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is recovering after the Akrâg Azgha, but he gets sucked into a tax situation he doesn't completely understand and once again opens his big mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus! Writing hibernation hit hard this year. Then this chapter kinda got away from me so I had to split it up into 2 chapters. Please enjoy.

The next few weeks passed by in waves of sickening pain and elated emotions. Once in the infirmary, Oin declared his ribs as cracked, not just bruised and forbade him from weapon’s training. Which was all fine and dandy for Bilbo. He hoped he would never have to pick up his little sword ever again. It didn’t seem likely as the attitude in the mountain changed almost overnight. Whereas before, the Ushmar Uzbâd stories were nothing more than entertaining exaggerated truths, now they were treated as bare facts. Everywhere Bilbo went, dwarves would bow or greet him with reverent awe. Bilbo still felt the whole thing was beyond ridiculous, and that he was no more warrior hero than his former pony, Myrtle. What made the entire nonsense bearable was Thorin.

Bilbo found himself back in the king’s good graces, and more so there almost seemed to be an air of pride around Thorin whenever Bilbo was acknowledged by his constituents. Honestly, it was rather confusing to Bilbo. After all, he credited the title of Ushmar Uzbâd to Thorin’s foul mood in the first place. The air may have been cleared between them, but there was still an undertone of hesitation to Thorin’s countenance that Bilbo couldn’t place. The last thing he wanted, though, was for Thorin to start ignoring him again. So Bilbo pretended he didn’t notice it, choosing to focus on that fact that he returned to being the object of Thorin’s smiles.

Being claimed as the King’s Champion was not all fun and games. His workload increased slightly now that he was being forced by Balin to appear at court at Thorin’s side. It was odd that they bowed to him before Thorin, but Balin explained that he was seen as the holder of Thorin’s honor so on that front, greater than a king. It was probably the most absurd conversation Bilbo had ever had in his life. He had no power and no real authority, but if Erebor wanted to make him a figurehead, so be it. He was able to remain as landlord of his purchased and rented property, and finally had a free moment to be able to check in on his tenants.

“Ushmar Uzbâd.”

Bilbo scolded the elderly dwarven woman. 

“Dear Gwen, don’t you dare start that nonsense. To you, I will always remain Master Baggins.”

Her laugh was breathy and delighted as she welcomed him into her home. Based on the lessons Balin had given him on dwarven ages, he estimated Gwen was roughly just past 240. Her hair and beard had long gone white, but her dark eyes remained bright and mischievous. When Bilbo had first begun to manage Bag’s Corner, she had come in with one of the Ered Luin caravans and told him in no uncertain terms that she had grown up in that particular apartment and would “beat his brains in” if he thought to keep it from her. “No matter how important a Halfling he seemed to think he was.”

_"My dear dwarrowdam...” Bilbo had tried to mediate._

_“I’ve no interest in your flattery, Hobbit! Just Gwen will do.” She snapped back._

_Bilbo bore into her with a confidence in his gaze that belied how easy it would be to push him around._

_"Dear Gwen…”_

It was the spark of a rather unconventional friendship that the rest of the Company encouraged even as they fought to understand it.

“I was rather impressed, Hobbit. You gave Heor a sound thrashing. Abanjabl (stone brain).” 

Bilbo grinned as he watched Gwen flutter around fixing him his usual tea and biscuits. She had learned his tastes fairly quickly and was one of the few that not only tolerated his culture’s manner of hosting but actively participated.

“Yes, well, as I have said before, I’m afraid it was nothing more than a small amount of wit and a great deal of luck. But you have my thanks all the same.”

Gwen shook her head muttering under her breath about frivolous hobbits and their niceties as she all but shoved him in the armchair next to the fire. She poured him a cup of his favorite black tea, offering him sugar but no cream. He raised an eyebrow in question. She waved him off as she took the seat next to him.

“It’s that tax on livestock products. I had to give up milk this week for meat, but fret not Master Baggins. There will be a decent cup awaiting you next week.”

Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t like he needed the rent money, but he’s already had this fight with dwarven pride. When he went about straightening up the set of homes on the northeast side of the mountain, he had thought of nothing but having a welcoming atmosphere for the citizens of Erebor upon their return. Instead, once they learned he was the one to make them livable once more, they would not settle for ‘charity’, and all but wrestled a price out of him. 

Bag’s Corner was probably the cheapest housing in Erebor for the rather lavish accommodations. His tenants were happy though, and even before the Ushmar Uzbâd nonsense, they always held him in high regard. Of course, that probably had to do with the fact that he was constantly expanding and improving on the properties rather than using their money to line his pockets. Still, it bothered him that he was sitting on a mountain of treasure he didn’t need, and Gwen didn’t even have enough to buy cream.

“Dear Gwen…” He began.

“Ack! Don’t you start.” She warned. “I’m not so old yet that I can’t afford to pay rent as is proper for the home you lend. I’m not suffering yet. I just couldn’t get cream this week. Hardly on the verge of starvation. And one more thing!”

Bilbo hid his exasperated chuckle in his cup as he let Gwen prattle on about her mistreatment in the men’s stables as a hostler during Erebor’s wandering years. Which if he hadn’t heard it a hundred times by her account, he had heard it through the Company at least twice fold. It didn’t lessen the soft ache he felt every time. 

Gwen quickly changed stream to tell him about her impressions of the Erebor of old when she was but a faunt. His cup was completely empty and cold, and yet she still continued full stream with ‘one more thing’. He wondered who else she had to listen to her stories besides himself. He had learned she had a younger brother, but he didn’t know where he was or even if he still lived. Other than that, she had been craftbound, so no husband or children. In the Shire, the relations ran deep enough that the elderly always had a home, even when they were no longer able to work. He didn’t know how dwarves handled their seniors. They were hard headed enough that it wouldn’t surprise Bilbo if they just continued to work until they died. He hoped Gwen still had people to support her, whether that was through her brother or not.

The evening bell had rung by the time Bilbo had finally managed to wrangle himself out of Dear Gwen’s care. His still healing ribs gave a twinge of discomfort as he tried to stretch his limbs before beginning his long trek back to his own home. He took the pass that cut around the marketplace, when the long moan of a steer gave him pause. The older calves were being led down to the slaughterhouse, and Bilbo was reminded of Gwen’s comment on the new tax. 

The Shire didn’t pay taxes the way the dwarves did. They usually chipped in once a year to help with property damage, pay the Bounders and the Dunedain, and mend the bumps in the road. Some families who couldn’t afford the tax would volunteer their labor on these projects. It was a relatively simple affair. Bilbo had learned things were much different in Erebor. He wasn’t sure if that was how all dwarves were or if it was just the lingering laws from a Gold Mad Thror, but there was a tax on nearly everything! A tax to open a new mine, a tax to open a shop in the marketplace, a tax on products leaving Erebor, a tax on products entering Erebor, even a property tax that Bilbo had become intimately familiar with as a landlord. It made what Bilbo understood about buying and selling more complicated and confusing, and honestly Bilbo had a tendency to give Gloin a vacant stare when he tried to explain it to him. However, if it was going to make it difficult for Bilbo’s tenants to live comfortably, then Bilbo felt it was worth braving the red headed dwarf’s enthusiasm.

***

Bilbo knocked on the door to his friend’s private rooms knowing he more than likely left the office long ago. A young dwarf with the same fiery hair and beard answered. His face lit up with recognition and awe.

“Ushmar Uzbâd!” He exclaimed.

“CâCoy! None of that, Master Gimli.” Bilbo reprimanded. “I worked hard to get you to finally call me Bilbo, and I will not let some duel undo all that time and effort.”

The boy looked sheepish as he ducked his head.

“Of course...Bilbo. Would you like to come in?”

Bilbo patted the dwarf’s shoulder fondly as he did just that. A delicious aroma of smells wafting into the sitting room from the kitchen making it a cosy and welcoming environment. However, he did not see Gloin in his usual spot by the fire.

“Adad is working late tonight.” Gimli answered his unspoken question.

“Oh!” Bilbo answered in surprise. “Well don’t mind me. I’ll get out of your hair. It looks to be as if you’re preparing for supper anyways.”

“Master Bilbo, you know you are more than welcome to stay for supper.”

Bilbo spun around to see Milja carry a large platter nearly overflowing with roast. Throughout the quest Bilbo had heard story after story of the dwarrowdam, and Gloin had shown him the locket portrait no less than forty-seven times. It had not done her justice for in person, she was much more beautiful than he imagined. He had determined a long time ago that it was her smile. It made her glow.

“Oh no. I wouldn’t wish to intrude.” Bilbo quickly shook his head.

“It’s no intrusion at all. It’s certainly not every day that we get the chance to host the Ushmar Uzbâd.” She teased with a wink. “Besides, if you’re going to wait on my husband, you might as well do it with your belly full rather than empty.”

Bilbo laughed, shaking his head as he moved to take a seat at the table. “Forgive me for saying so, but you would have made a fine hobbit, Milja.”

Her eyes twinkled in mirth. “And you, a fine dwarf. Although, for all that I know my way around a kitchen, I don’t think I would be any kind of help in your garden.”

“Nor I in your forge.” Bilbo was quick to reply.

Milja did release a deep belly laugh at that. Gimli, who had been practically bouncing in his seat, used the lull to launch into a blow-by-blow replay of Bilbo’s battle against Heor. As a young guardsman in training, Gimli was experiencing the ramifications of Dwalin’s bruised ego when it came to how Bilbo won the battle. Bilbo was well through his second plate of food as Gimli discussed Dwalin’s drills to increase their awareness of their opponent’s weaknesses when Gloin walked through the door.

“Well, I’ll be! A hobbit to eat me out of house and home!” He ribbed good naturedly.

“Would have been plenty had you gotten here on time.” Milja reminded with an upturned nose.

Gloin immediately moved to her chair wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her cheek.

“Forgive me, ibinê (my gem). You know I hate every moment I am parted from you.”

“Flatterer.” She smirked as she smacked him on the arm.

Gloin laughed before squeezing her middle and rubbing his beard into her neck until she was laughing. Gimli slunk in his seat groaning in embarrassment, and Bilbo diverted his attention to his empty plate.

“Enough!” Milja playfully groaned. “Bilbo has waited long enough for you, so sit and give our guest your attention.”

“Of course! What can I do for you, Master Baggins?” Gloin exaggerated with a wide smile as Milja busied herself with filling her husband’s plate.

“Oh, yes.” Bilbo blinked remembering his purpose in visiting. “Well Gloin, even though I consider myself fairly intelligent, and you have told me multiple times already, I find myself still having difficulty wrapping my head around all this tax business.”

Gloin nodded in interest clearly not the least bit put out by having to explain his work again to the ignorant hobbit. Gimli on the other hand somehow managed to sink low enough in his chair that he was nearly parallel to the floor. His mother noticed as well and took pity on him.

“Gimli, why don’t you help me wash the dishes, and we can leave these two to their business?”

Bilbo had to stop himself from giggling at the relieved expression in the younger dwarf’s face. Instead, he turned to Gloin who was tucking into the meal before him.

“So what’s the problem, Bilbo? Is it the property tax you don’t understand?”

“No, I seem to have wrapped my mind around that one. It’s just...one of my tenants seems to be struggling with the livestock tax, and I don’t want them to feel as if they have to choose between food and rent because I fear they all will choose rent when it boils right down to it.”

“Every one of them? You are well respected by your tenants then.” Gloin nodded in approval.

Bilbo felt his face flush, but he fought to keep it out of his expression.

“Yes, well...perks of winning the Akrâg Azgha I suppose.”

Gloin shook his head letting Bilbo navigate his way out of the compliment even though his expression was clear disagreement.

“So livestock tax? Are you talking about the tariff or the market tax?”

Bilbo blinked. “I’m...not exactly sure.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine!” Gloin waved his hand. “We can discuss both!”

Bilbo sat through the next hour and a half lecture learning about the taxing system of Erebor. His eyes glazed over several times, but he just had Gloin back up until he got the gist of it. The farmers of Dale had to pay a tariff to sell in Erebor, which affected their prices once they got in, then the markets had to pay a tax to set up their shops which affected the consumer prices. When Bilbo repeated this back, Gloin made some grunts and used some unfamiliar terms to Bilbo, but told him that he at least had the basics.

“So where does the money go?” Bilbo questioned.

“Well, the tariffs go straight into the treasury ran by yours truly.” Gloin explained. “The market tax is taken by the Trade Guild in order to upkeep the facilities, pay guards to watch for pickpockets, those sorts of things.”

“And what would cause the taxes to increase?”

“If we’re talking solely about livestock, the tariffs shouldn’t ever increase.” Gloin was quick to point out. “If Erebor were to raise their own products, then we would raise them to encourage people to buy from inside the mountain. With livestock, we don’t have a lot of grazing sites in Erebor, so that would never happen. With the market taxes, they fluctuate with supply and demand.”

Bilbo nodded. That made sense. Only, having lived around farms his whole life, he knew that there had been no conditions to thin out the herds recently. Furthermore, it wasn’t like the population had suddenly doubled either. Not enough for there to be more demand of livestock products like milk and meat. Where was this tax increase coming from?

Bilbo passed his question onto his friend, and Gloin just stared at him dumbfounded.

“Bilbo, there was no tax increase.”

“Yes, there was. Dear Gwen told me so.” 

“Bilbo, I’m telling you there wasn’t! I would have marked it in my ledgers.”

Bilbo’s nose twitched. How strange.

***

The next morning, Bilbo went down to the markets perusing the wares. He was ticking off the items in his head of what he needed and was getting ready to head to Dori’s stand for more tea leaves when he noticed Bombur over at Bifur’s stand. Despite Gloin’s assurances, he couldn’t seem to get this tax business off his mind. It was certainly no concern of his. As Ushmar Uzbâd he was barely allowed to pay for _anything_ anymore, not for his lack of trying. Still Bombur worked in the kitchens. He would know better than anyone if there was a tax increase on food. Even before making his mind up completely, his feet were already carrying him closer to the cousins.

“Good morning, my good dwarrows.” He greeted once close enough.

“Ushmar Uzbâd!” Bifur greeted enthusiastically.

Bilbo made a shushing sound as he quickly scanned the area for signs of having been caught. Which went beyond his capacity for logical reasoning. He was the only hobbit in the entire mountain. He wasn’t fooling anyone. This seemed to dawn on his companions as grins nearly split their face from ear to ear.

“How are the ribs?” Bombur decided to ask conversationally.

“Better.” Bilbo nodded eager to move past the embarrassment as well. “They still twinge a bit, and Oin has forbidden me from anything more strenuous than breathing. Still, it could be worse.”

“ _Right, you could be a headless corpse._ ” Bifur commented in Khuzdul.

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh. Was there no end to this rather dark, worn-out jest? Once over the better part of his performance in the duel, Fili and Kili took turns mimicking him at the moment he thought he was about to lose everything. He had been tempted to shove their princely heads straight into their plates of potatoes if it hadn’t been for the rather hysterical relief they held in their enactments. He supposed in some ways he should feel grateful that he will always have friends to humble him in his most triumphant moments. He got his revenge the next day where in Dale he managed to make both of them slip off their ponies and into a fresh pile of manure. Bumbling Burglar indeed.

“And then you would miss my attempt to pretend I still don’t know what you’re saying.” Bilbo snarked.

Bifur and Bombur both laughed good-naturedly at this making Bilbo smirk in response. He decided this was as good a time as any to launch his inquiry. 

“Bombur, how’s life in the kitchens treating you?”

“No complaints here. Getting to do what I love and enjoy the spoils of it as well.” He smiled jovially while rubbing his belly.

“I am certainly envious.” Bilbo nodded in return. “Beats court life anyways. And the taxes haven’t affected you?”

Bombur shook his head as a small frown overtook his face. “No, they don’t tax food delivered straight to the palace kitchens, but Bifur and I were just discussing that. Nasty business that. It was produce and herbs a few weeks ago, and then the meat and milk and leather, and now Bifur tells me they’ve increased the tax on metal.”

Bilbo was nodding along at first already forming a theory that someone in Dale might be trying to cheat them until Bombur finished.

“ _Metal?!_ ” Bilbo practically choked. “That isn’t even an imported product.”

“ _It is rather strange._ ” Bifur agreed.

Bilbo’s brows furrowed as his mind began speeding through possibilities. This was no longer just a hapless circumstance. There was something quite wrong with this picture. Before he could fish for more information, a commotion across the hall drew his attention. 

“You cheat!” A deep, yet clearly feminine voice cut through the usual market noise.

Bilbo was across the hall and inserted amongst the onlookers before the cousins could even manage to call out to him. He was easily able to shove his way forward where he saw a rather furious dwarrowdam rounding on one of the local fruit vendors. A pair of dwarflings stood in the background looking on in fear and trepidation.

“Miss, please try to understand…” The dwarf placated only to duck down again as her basket swung around to clonk him in the head.

The guards finally moved forward at that point to disperse the crowd and escort the dwarrowdam out. Bilbo took a hesitant step forward, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked over to see Bifur subtly shaking his head.

“Don’t touch me!” The dwarrowdam roared as the guard moved to grab her arm.

“First the meat, then milk and bread, and now you overcharge me for _fruit_? How am I supposed to feed my children?!” She wailed pointing to the two behind her.

They looked far from starvation, but as a hobbit Bilbo always felt a pull of compassion to any that would miss a meal. Especially children. Murmurs moved through the crowd. 

“It’s time for you to go.” A guard grunted as he finally managed to pull her arms behind her back.

The dwarflings let out noises of distress as she roared in frustration, and Bilbo felt he could no longer stand by and watch the awful scene. He strode purposefully forward as gasps rang around him.

“Ushmar Uzbâd.”

At hearing his title, the dwarrowdam seemed renewed in her purpose and managed to break free rushing straight for him.

“Ushmar Uzbâd! Please help.” She cried as she took hold of his hands.

Bilbo had to fight the wince as she unintentionally jarred his ribs.

“My dear lady, what seems to be the problem?” He asked politely.

“We can’t keep up with these taxes. I’m but a seamstress in the lower districts, and my husband has been searching for work ever since the mines closed. Now we’ve been living comfortably, and His Majesty’s reasons for closing the mines have always been respected in our household. But we can’t keep up with these taxes. It was just a few here and there, but in the last month, it’s eaten at all our savings! Please is there anything you can do?”

Bilbo’s eyes went round as he quickly became aware of the full extent of the problem. The market seemed to go deadly quiet as he searched the faces of dwarrows around him looking back at him in weariness and hope. He met Bifur and Bombur’s gazes last. Their lack of surprise startled him a bit. That’s when he remembered. Bofur was a foreman in the mines. Just how serious was this problem?

Something that made him even sicker to think about was whether Thorin was in the right on this. It would certainly make fighting an honor duel over the policy rather pointless and foolish. A discussion he would have with the king soon most assuredly. He already mourned their renewed peace. In the meantime, he wasn’t about to undermine Thorin’s authority in this largely public setting. He needed to make this about the taxes, not about the mines.

“Madam, I will do everything I can to help.” He whispered, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.

“Hear me, citizens of Erebor!” Bilbo addressed the crowd. “This is supposed to be a place of prosperity and new beginnings. Your King knows this well and has always strived to show it. I know not why there have been all these tax increases, but I swear on my honor, that I will personally investigate the matter and right this terrible wrong.”

Cheers erupted as soon as he finished. He was feeling rather proud of himself as he led the dwarrowdam back over to the stall and paid for her groceries. Tears were in her eyes as she thanked him over and over before finally Bilbo was free to go on his own way. He turned to make his way back over to his friends only to notice Nori standing with them as well. He didn’t even need to read into his look. In an instant, he knew exactly where he messed up. He was Ushmar Uzbâd. It wasn’t his honor on which he staked claims anymore. It was Thorin’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever reason this last section was so hard for me to get out! Also, I am Bilbo when it comes to economics so if I oversimplified or made any mistakes in defining a nation's tax situation, I can't even begin to describe how much I don't want to know. Doing the minimal research was more than enough for me. :) Comments/kudos/bookmarks are always welcome, and feel free to drop by [my tumblr](https://sunnyrosewritesstuff.tumblr.com/) to check out other works or chat.


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